Freeze Your Brain!
by leviathanSlewfoot
Summary: Michael Mell was having a pretty shitty day. This is a crossover with The Heathers, Dear Evan Hansen, and Be More Chill. Characters: Connor Murphy, J.D., and Michael Mell. Jeremy Heere is mentioned.


Michael Mell was having a pretty sucky day. This current sucky day had been preceded by several other sucky days, and from the direction that things were headed, it was sure to be followed by an infinite amount of even more sucky days.

For that reason, he decided to give up on attending classes completely. He instead elected to spend the rest of the school day getting stoned in the bathroom that was barely used by anyone.

Michael huffed as he closed the bathroom door behind him, relieved that the bathroom was empty, as usual. He walked over to the opposite wall, leaned against it, breathing deeply, and taking out the joint hidden in his sweatshirt pocket, along with the lighter also previously hidden in his sweatshirt pocket. Michael lit it, brought the edge to his mouth, breathed in, held it, then let it out slowly.

He used to do this with Jeremy in his own basement for special occasions, such as birthdays, mental health days, or any other miscellaneous date.

Michael closed his eyes and repeated his preceding four actions. It was a good thing nobody ever came to this bathroom. It was in the corner of the school, had gone unused and uncleaned for years because of its locational inconvenience. Michael appreciated the quiet the environment offered as well. It gave him time to think. Just a quiet haven in which-

Michael heard someone coming down the hallway. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. He had never even considered the possibility that someone would come here. How had he not? Hell if he knew. Michael just hadn't. An error on his part, now that he considered it. Fuck. What would he do? He only had a few seconds before whoever was out _there_ became whoever was in _here_.

Michael rushed into the largest stall, locked it, and sat on the toilet, bringing his knees up to his chin. He took another hit quietly.

The bathroom door was pushed open, then slammed shut loudly. Michael grimaced. What was this asshole's problem? They just barged into his private space (he knew that it wasn't really _his,_ but honestly, he had at least a small claim to it, as he was the only person out of anyone, including faculty, to ever come here), making all sorts of noise. Who did they think they were?

The person was huffing angrily, but then they stopped. And they sniffed. Michael was confused about why until he remembered that pot had a very distinct smell to it. He internally cursed himself out for not considering the possibility of an additional party.

The person took a deep breath. "Alright, whoever the fuck's in here, you might as well come out. I know you're here."

Michael instantly recognized the owner of the sharp tone as Connor Murphy; a senior he had chatted with a few times before, who had seemed like a pretty cool dude.

Still, Michael didn't really feel like talking to anybody right then. It wasn't personal. So, he stayed silent.

Connor sighed. "I'm not about to tell on you for smoking pot. I came in here to do the exact same thing anyway. I'm going to see you, whether you choose to keep hiding for no good fucking reason or you come the fuck out."

Michael didn't move. Why would Connor want to find him, anyway? Whatever. It didn't matter. The guy was probably bluffing. Connor would just smoke his blunt, then leave.

Suddenly, his stall door rattled quite loudly. Michael winced.

"You think you're being subtle, buddy?" Connor asked condescendingly, with the tiniest hint of sarcasm on the word 'buddy.' Michael could see his black shoes and pants in the gap under the stall door. He took a hit nervously.

"This is literally the only stall that's closed, let alone locked. You didn't put much thought into this, did you? Just open the fucking door so we can have a normal conversation like civilized human beings."

Michael closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of normal air. Why, why, why, why now? Out of all the other times in his life… It had to be now that someone caught him.

He slowly got off of the toilet, shuffling over to the stall door just as slowly, and hesitated for a few moments when he reached the door. He was about to unlock it when-

"What took you so fucking long, Mell?" Connor's voice spoke up from behind him sharply.

Michael started, spinning around on his heel to see the tall brunette, standing almost directly behind him, with some sort of emotion hidden in his gaze (amusement?) as he stared down the retro lavatory denizen. Michael hid the joint behind his back.

"How..." Michael started, confused. He hadn't even unlocked the stall door yet, let alone open it, yet here the older Murphy sibling was, standing right in front of him. Or, rather, towering over him.

Said Murphy lit a blunt and took a hit.

"Since you were taking your sweet time even getting your stoned ass over here, I just went into the next stall over and jumped it over here," the boy explained as if he had read Michael's mind. "Also, do yourself a favor, Mell." He grabbed the wrist of the hand behind Michael's back and yanked it forward, exposing the hidden blunt. "Never become a magician. You're a horrible liar, and you have no talent for the art of sleight of hand."

Michael chuckled humorlessly, looking down at the ground and cracking a halfhearted smile. "You're right about that, Murphy. In that matter, you are absolutely correct."

"No shit, Sherlock."

Connor released Michael's wrist. More than anything, though, he firmly threw it back towards the startled junior.

He brushed Michael to the side, then unlocked the stall door, stepping out and walking to the opposite wall, leaning against it and taking a hit as he did so. He fixed the retro gamer with a neutral stare. "Are you going to come out or stand there gawking at me, Mell?"

Michael blinked. "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, dude." He came out of the stall and leaned against the wall next to the senior. "Guess I'm pretty stoned already. Was out of it for a few seconds."

Connor nodded, closing his eyes and breathing in the smoke from his blunt. "You did have that stoned film over your eyes. Made it look like you had cataracts. Only reason I knew that you actually didn't was that thick-lensed second pair of eyes that you wear over your normal ones."

Michael chuckled, momentarily amused by the quip. "Nah, I always look like that when I'm stoned. Also, kudos to you on the indirect four-eyes comment. How long did it take you to come up with that one?"

The senior rose an eyebrow. "It was never intended. You got trust issues, Mell? Look, I don't insult people who don't have it coming to them, and you haven't done a thing." He looked directly at Michael, turning his head. His gaze softened, becoming empathetic and sympathetic at the same time. "You haven't done a thing, Michael."

The Tagalog boy choked on his own smoke, his eyes watering at the simple statement that he hadn't done anything wrong. "You're kidding me, Murphy," he asked once he cleared his throat. "You'd have to be legally blinder than I am to think that I-" a sob suddenly forced its way out of his chest, surprising himself- "that I haven't done..." his voice cracked and dwindled like a dying flame. He tried to fight the cry that tore his esophagus to shreds, but he couldn't match the raw emotion that it held.

Connor reached over to the junior and pulled him into his arms. "Come here, little bro. There you are, Mell. I was worried you weren't in there anymore, you emotional loser," he joked. He grew serious. "I was worried they got you, Michael. Don't let them do that to you. Don't let them take you away from you. All those feelings you were hiding? Those are you, those are a _part_ of you. Please don't let them take those away from you." He tightened his grip. "No one deserves to disappear."

Michael had no idea what Connor meant by any of those words, but it almost didn't matter. The warm pressure of another human, of a _friend,_ was so comforting in and of itself. It was almost perfect. The only thing that would wave made it any better was _Jeremy…_

Sensing that Michael was quite a bit better, Connor released him from the tight embrace. "Now that you feel better, you want to skip? I know a place where we can get even more stoned and no one will care."

Michael nodded, wiping his face quickly. "Yeah," he said happily, his voice cracking. This was the best he'd felt ever since the Halloween party, and he wanted to savor it, if at least for a while.

Then, there were steps outside, in the hallway.

"Shit," Connor muttered, "we're screwed."

Michael ran to the stall he had been in before. "In, in!"

Connor quickly followed, closing the door and locking it. He crawled to the other stalls and locked them as well, but not before the door opened. He just finished the last stall, and crawled back.

Someone sighed. "You're still here. I'm going to guess Murphy, from the smell. Come on out, it's just me."

Connor glared. "Dean. What are you doing here," he asked as he opened the stall to face a tall form in a trench coat.

"Hello to you too, Murphy. High, per the norm?"

"As a matter of fact, we were just leaving," Connor said as he grabbed Michael by the shoulder and pulled him out of the stall, guiding him towards the door.

The trench coat flowed behind the guy's legs as he blocked their way. "Who's this?"

Connor sighed. "JD, this is Michael Mell. Michael, meet Jason Dean, also known as JD."

"Greetings and salutations," JD greeted, looking down at Michael. "Why are you getting high?"

"None of your business," Connor shot back.

JD frowned, as if he was thinking. Then, he looked back at Connor. "What if I told you there was a better way to get high?"

Connor was caught off guard. "Oh?"

Michael rose his eyebrow. "Dude, have you ever even smoked a cigarette?"

"Yes, I have, and yes, there is," JD answered. "I'll pay for it. Look, Connor, I know we have our differences, but really, I think we're alike too."

Connor grumbled. "Fine. This stuff better be good."

JD chuckled. "Oh, don't worry. It is."

After a short car ride, they arrived at Seven-11.

"Are you sure," Michael asked.

"Yup," JD replied.

They walked inside, and he went up to the counter. "I'll have three slushies, please."

"Slushies," Connor said incredulously. "You brought us to a Seven-11 to get high on slushies."

"Yes, I did," JD stated. "You'll see."

He took a long sip from his straw until he grunted and pressed his fingers to his temple. He smiled up at them. "Care to try it?"

"You get your highs from brain freezes? Are you a masochist," Michael asked, almost horrified at the idea of pain.

"Better than destroying my lungs," JD quipped, looking distastefully towards their joints.

Michael shrugged, then filled his cup with his usual red cherry slush.

"Now drink quickly, and don't stop," the black-haired senior instructed.

The Filipino did as he said, then winced. "Ow! Oh…" Michael felt the freeze melt away any thoughts for a moment. "Oh! Is that what you mean?"

"Indeed it is," JD answered.

Connor frowned, choosing the blue raspberry flavor and sipping quickly. "Agh! Fuck," he cursed, almost dropping his cup.

"See? Perfect high," JD said triumphantly.

Connor laughed. "I guess so."

Michael felt the suckiness of the day slip away. At least he had two more friends now


End file.
